An Alliance Too Fragile
by B.T. Gunker
Summary: A story of a bank robbery gone awry. Inspired by K&L's 'Fragile Alliance' mode and the bank robbery missions. Please R&R.


November 26th

5:45 P.M.

Bank of America

Seattle, Washington

"Jesus H. Christ on a motherfucking stick! I broke a rib! GODDAMN IT!" I howled as a bullet struck me and broke my ribs through my bullet-proof vest. Gage Wilson, my partner drowned the officer who shot me in a hail of bullets from his silenced MP5. He was dressed exactly the same as me with an open mouthed ski-mask, black hoodie, and black sweatpants; we were quite the sight to behold."You alright, James?" he asked with his eyes.

"I'll survive." I said harshly to no one in particular. "Here, take this" I handed him one of the backpacks I held in my hand by the strap, giving him three packs and me two.

"Let's get moving." I barked, trying to hide the obvious pain in my mid-section. _Hell_, I thought, with the _million bucks I'm about to make I can buy a new rib_. After a while I was able to get the pain off my mind as Gage and I made our way up the stairs from the safe to the lobby. Everything was going according to plan! Our contact, the driver of the armored van that had arrived a few moments ago, had indeed planted the car bomb and detonated it after he left. Gage and I took a ladder down from the roof and Gage killed all the security in the confusion and while I cleaned out ten-mil from the safe and put it in our backpacks.

From what I could hear, everything was going as planned upstairs in the lobby too. Manny and Kim fired some shots to scare everyone up stairs shitless, disarmed the guards, and kept all the possible hostages calm. Picture perfect.

Finally, since there was no sign on the heat yet so our driver, John Smith must've found a way to cause some traffic slowdown. Before you ask, no his name isn't John Smith. That's on a need to know basis.

Oh and I'm James Goldstein. I'm a Desert Storm vet and Harvard graduate. Oh, and a professional bank-robber. An odd combination, I know. Most people wouldn't understand. But the rush…the rush you get when you hear sirens in the distance and nearly put a hole in the bottom of your car from putting the pedal to the floor, is just incredible.

As it stands, I'm the ringleader of this crazy circus of a robbery. Five guys who always dreamt of pulling off a job like this but couldn't do it on their own making an alliance. Real chivalrous shit, you know. We aren't exactly best buddies though. After this we probably won't see each other again unless it's inside a prison cell. So I guess you could say the Alliance is pretty shaky…or fragile. A Fragile Alliance, I like the sound of that.

Ahem, back to the job.

So anyway, Gage and I got to the lobby and saw Kim looking out the front door, sporting jeans, a gray sweater, and a SPAS-12 shotgun. Manny walked around the lobby examining his AK-47 keeping his cool. They had done a good job rounding up the hostage; everyone was lined up with their faces against the wall and hands on the ground. I glanced over to the corner of the room at four dead security guards piled on top of each other with blood all around them.

"I said disarm, not kill. Fuck it. No harm done." I said to Kim. I had forgotten Kim knew very little English.

"Cocksuckers!" He shouted at me, pointing to the dead security guards.

"Right. Thank God we taught you that word." I replied.

As soon as I did so the walkie-talkie on my hip crackled to life. "James? James? Do you read?" John's voice came from the other end. "I read, I read. You almost here, man? We've got all the cash loaded up and ready to go." I said. "I'm right around the corner, but word is the cops are on their way now. I haven't seen any yet except for the one behind me. We'll have to take him out when I get their. Out" he said. "Over and out" I replied.

In a few minutes our getaway ride was there in the form of a Dodge Caravan and sure enough a police cruiser with it's siren tailed close behind. Manny, Kim, and Gage all unloaded immediately on the car. It came to an immediate stop and the horn sounded to signify the body of the driver had slumped into the horn.

That was when we were at our peak. From point shit began to roll down hill.

As we loaded the bags and guns into the back of the car the blonde-haired, deep-voiced, and sunglasses clad man in the front seat yelled in anguish, "Oh, FUCK!" We all heard the same noise he did and looked up. We all silently prayed to whatever gods might exist that it wasn't what we thought.

But it was.

To get around the jammed traffic, the SWAT had brought a helicopter in. Surely the sniper in the helicopter saw us slaughter the cop and would shoot to kill. Just as I saw this a gunshot pierced the air, and a bright light flashed from the helicopter. Kim fell over backwards with a hole in his head, slumped down on the pavement; his brains decorated the concrete like finger-paint.

I grabbed the last backpack off his back instinctively and tossed it in the back and shut the very back door. "Four way split, boys!" I howled as I opened a door and jumped in the car, missing my seat entirely and winding up in the floor. Gage and Manny stumbled in after me as John floored it and we sped down the empty road, left back door still open.

This was where we saw John's wild side. He stared with rage at the blinking 'door is ajar' message and whipped out his pistol, blowing a hole in his own car and the sign. "MY DOOR IS NOT A JAR. IT'S A FUCKING DOOR."

Manny was the first to speak up.

"Calm down, man. We gotta stay cool if we're getting out of here." He said.

"Stay cool? This is ten fucking mill-ee-own. You stay calm, bitch." John snapped back.

"Hey bitch, who you calling a bitch?" Manny snapped back twice as fierce.

The fight probably would've continued had 3 cops not turned onto the road we sped down. They started to ram us, causing us to whip around in the car wildly, gripping desperately not to fall out of the open door. Next thing we knew our car was flipping over and Gage disappeared out the door. I looked out through a window of the airborne vehicle just quick enough to see Gage land on his head and bounce down the road. No one could survive that. I was sure Gage was dead.

We finally landed at an abrupt halt in front of an S&R department store. I crawled out clutching the SPAS-12 shotgun Kim had left in the backseat and held a bag of cash in my hand. I must've been out of it for a couple seconds, because Manny and John were already out of the car, each with one bag of money. They were both battered bloody and broken, Manny had lost his ski-mask in the crash and John's face couldn't even be seen behind his crimson mask of blood. Both clutched scratched and clawed pistols in the hands opposite the hand they held the bags of money, two were lost in the crash.

John spoke gargled words through his bloody mouth. "The 'copter laid off, guys. Let's get up to the roof."

Manny objected immediately, "The roof? What the fuck are we gonna do on the roof? Wait to die? Fuck you man! We gotta get out of here!"

John screamed in his face, "I've had it up to fucking here with you ungrateful fuck! Fuck you! We are going up to the roof and you are gonna follow or I will personally blow your fucking brains o-"

Before he could finish, Manny had punched him hard in the mouth. That would apparently be the last mistake Manny ever made. John whipped lifted his pistol and shot Manny in the head from his spot where he lay on the ground. Manny's brains eeked out onto the scruff of his neck as he fell forward.

Out of pure reaction, I pumped the shotgun and fired a fistful of shells into John's chest, killing him instantly.

I was in shock.

I couldn't believe that a job that started out so promising hard turned into four valuable men dead in the streets. It's a shame really. But I couldn't expect anything less really. My mission was complete.

Oh, What was my mission, you might ask? Or maybe you're puzzled was to why I wasn't more upset with outcome of the job? Or perhaps the more attentive of you wonder why I never killed a police officer in the entire series of events?

I'm afraid I didn't tell you my whole profession. I'm James Goldstein, Desert Storm Vet, Harvard grad, professional bank robber… and undercover police detective.


End file.
